About 18 months ago I got sick. Very sick. I ended up in hospital, and was to stay there for almost nine months. I was embarrassed and ashamed and felt that I couldn’t tell anyone where I was. I told some people I was on holidays, others that I was away for work. But the truth was that I was on a psychiatric ward fighting for my life. I say fighting because that’s what I felt I was doing.
It all happened rather quickly. One minute I was bridesmaid at my sister’s wedding and the next thing I was inpatient on an acute psychiatric ward. It all happened so fast and in a number of weeks I unravelled in spectacular style.
At first I was afraid. I was so afraid of the thoughts that were going on in my head that I didn’t tell anyone. I kept it to myself. I’m very lucky and have great friends and family but couldn’t find the words to tell them how I was feeling so as far as they were concerned I was fine. But I wasn’t. I was far from fine and was in such a bad place that I just couldn’t find the words to explain how I was feeling. I believed that I would be better off dead and that my friends and family would be better off without me. Continue reading “The fight for my life”→
Yesterday I read an article on the Journal.ie which kinda annoyed me. In fact it really annoyed me. It was about self harm and in my opinion added to the already existing stigma associated with self harm and those who use it as a coping mechanism.
It talked a lot about the fear mental health professionals have about growing numbers of people self harming, teenagers using the internet to compare self harm methods and injuries, and talked about methods of self harm in a graphic nature without any trigger warnings ( which the Samaritan guidelines recommend to do)
The above picture says it all really. Sometimes its the simple little things that make all the difference in life.
I may as well go on the record and say that I’m not the biggest fan of psychiatrists. I’m sure there are some great ones out there, but I’ve had the unfortunate experience of meeting too many bad ones.
Maybe its because I hate their reliance on medication, when sometimes counselling is all that is needed. Maybe its because a lot of them are so clinical and don’t have great people skills.
I also hate the empty feeling you are left with after spilling your soul to a complete stranger only to have them write you a prescription and ask you to come back in a few months.
But a puppy on the other hand…. is always willing to cheer you up, always there when you need a hug, and is never in a bad mood.
If I was a psychiatrist I would spend my time prescribing puppies to people who are depressed. My dog has made such a difference to my life, and I know a lot of people who would say the same.
What’s your opinion on psychiatrists? Or puppies for that matter